Falling Water
by Sevier
Summary: Eragon feels alone and unsure in his role of ShadeslayerDragon Rider. His worry, and his aching scar, take him to the bath in Ellesmira to relax, and he receives a bit of help, some he created, relaxing. Yaoi later, Lemon, and maybe some violence.
1. Restless

'Lo again! I don't own Eragon characters, I'm SURE you know this. X3 Um. This is yaoi. It'll be very short. Just a little spur of the moment Idea I thought of while being bored on . Anyway, I do so hope you enjoy this. The character, Erron, I added. I made him up. HE'S NOT NORMAL! D; -cough- I mean, he isn't in the stories.

Okay...yeah...read now. And, review, maybe?

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_Little one,_ Saphira touched his mind, and Eragon turned. _Where are you going?_

He smiled, watching her slip from their room, sleepy in the night. He'd woken at about midnight and had been wandering around the grounds for a while now. He hadn't hoped to wake her. _Fear not, Saphira. I am simply going to bathe_. He touched her nose gently. _I am sorry for waking you._

_I woke on my own,_ she offered, blinking a few times and gazing down the hall. _What time is it?_

_Soon to be noon._ He smiled, watching one of the Dwarves hurry by. He bowed slightly in his hurry. "Shadeslayer."

Eragon bowed back and turned, his boots clicking lightly on the ground beneath him. _Noon or just after. We were both up late last night._

_Indeed we were._ Saphira followed at his heels. A smile crept across his face as her nails clicked to match that of his boots._ How Bad was your back this time?_

Eragon nodded once, very slowly. _It wasn't unbearable this time._ He mused this more to himself, though he spoke this to his partner. _Just...very uncomfortable_.

They turned down yet another passage, moving aside as a few dwarves carting barrels of what Eragon guessed was mead, and in turn receive a chorus of bows and 'shadeslayer' in many tones. He would have nodded at them, but they had already turned the corner. _Everyone seems so buisy,_ Saphira mused. Eragon simply nodded and continued on his way.

–W–

_I'll stay outside. I can't fit through the door_, Saphira nodded at the doors leading into the bathing rooms. Eragon nodded.

"I wont be long." He didn't plan to be. However, this would be a hollow lie in the hour to come.

He shut the door behind him, walking in and staring at the large sight that met him. The bathing tub was more of a hot spring. Watter poured from the high wall of stone in a waterfall at least twenty feet high. It fell into a large, rought pool at the base that was the size of a barn's floor. It's water was clear as crystal, and it seemed to go only about four feet. Good, he could sit down. He walked past the huge marble pillars lining the stone walls and peered into the pool. He nodded, noting the bottom was of packed sand. After taking another look at the grand waterfall, he turned and stepped over to a large marble table. Here he removed his linen tunic and rested it in a folded square, then eased off his boots setting them next to him. He sighed, resting his hands on the marble and looking down at the floor. So many things were happening at once. He held so many alliances. He was part of so many twisted plans.  
He wasn't supposed to go near steamed cabbage, whatever that meant. He was utterly and absolutely void of anything but smashed together thoughts. He was starting to give himself a headache.  
After noting this, he closed his mind to those many, many thoughts. He let the sound of the water calm him. It brought peace and relaxation to his tight, stressed form. He bent his elbows, touching his forehead to the cool marble and crossing his arms over his head. "Heavens, what have I gotten myself into?"

_History._ He glanced sideways past his arms to the doors. Saphira was obviously listening._You are our past, present, and future hopes, Eragon. A heavy task, and a heavy burden. You can bare it, though, Eragon. I know you can._

_Thank you, Saphira, You're one of two.  
_


	2. Relief

Hello all! I'm sure you missed me. . Not really. Well, on it's first day, **Falling Water** got fifty hits! ;O GASP! Anyway, I'm glad there are some Eragon fans out there. X3 I know I love the book, and very much adore my fanfiction as it comes out. I do promise you. There will be yaoi, and you'll see a lot of the bathing room in this story. I'm just introducing you to the main setting. ;D

**Discalimer: **I do not own the characters...blah blah. If I did...they're be something like this in it. X3 The story/plot, however in this story, is mine. No stealy! D Kidding. No, really. Stealing is bad for your soul. ;

Anywho, on with the story.

REVIEW, PLEASE! REVIEW FOR MY NON-EXISTANT SOUL'S SAKE!

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1The young Rider stared into the marble for a long time. His shimmering eyes danced along the rock, searching for something, anything, to help him. The dim light of the bath house caused a low emptiness to win him over. Bending to his knees, he rested his forehead on the cool stone, hugging his torso with his arms, as if to keep himself together.

"Uncle..." His words were small, feeble. He felt so weak. He didn't understand anything anymore. It was all coming so fast. This sudden rush of emotions echoed through him and he choked a sob. "Brom..." He'd lost everything he knew. He'd left everything he even barely begun to know at Farthen Dur. What was coming to him? Angela said they were all doomed. Doomed of what? Was he to fail? Oh, if he was to fail! Another pang ripped through him and he let out a cry, his back searing. He held his torso, nearly biting through his lip to keep from another sob, though tears already stained his boyish face. "Please...something, anything...something to help hold me together."

He sat there. Saphira must and drifted to sleep by now. He couldn't hear her touch his mind. He slumped to the floor, his back searing, his mind aching. He curled himself into a tight ball, trying to shield himself from the world.

How could someone so young be held under such a large stone? He could barely bare it. He did his best to act as well as he could. He held his head high, did as he was told. He fought hard and learned quick. But, at night, he lay awake, these horrible thoughts engulfing him. His night terrors were becoming horrible. He watched Saphira killed, he sees Arya die, he relives walking to his home and finding his uncle Garrow, dead and gone! He relived Brom dying again. Good lord, how was he to bare this?

Saphira's words tumbled in his head. For some reason they did not comfort him. Of course she believed in him. She was his dragon. They both believed in each other, even if the odds are slim to none. This caused even more uncomfort and he clawed as his back, arching and thusly hitting his head rather roughly on the marble table.

He paused in his thoughts at this point. His head was reeling and now hurt, his back was fading from pain. He just laid there, sprawled and shivering with sobs until he closed his eyes.

It wasn't long until the sound of running water entered his skull again. It touched his mind, washing over the horrid thoughts and cleaned them into diamond silence. His sobbing began to fade, and soon he lay motionless except for his heavy, deep breaths. Eragon listened closely to the silence of anything but the water. The cool liquid was loud and soft, harsh and elegant in his ear. He even heard himself yawn ever so slightly.

Eragon soon was deep in sleep, laying against the cool marble table.

–W–

_Eragon_.

He stirred, groaning and opening his eyes. It was dark. Warm glowed and shadows chased each others above him. His dazed, sleep-covered eyes stared into white marble. It took him a moment to recall where he was.

_Eragon_.

He pushed himself up onto his elbow, running a hand over his face and yawned. His body ached, and he knew exactly why. He'd bloody fallen asleep on tile flooring.

_Eragon, are you alright?_

He smiled lightly to himself, sitting up and tucking his legs beneath him and pressing to sit on his knees, still staring at the marble. '_Yes, Saphira, I'm fine.'_

_Little one, you have been silent in there. You have been bathing for over an hour. I have been calling you for half that time, what were you doing? I woke when you had your fire attack to your scar and called to you. You did not answer. I had become worried._

_'No, no I'm sorry, Saphira.'_ He grasped the edge of the table and stood, stretching and popping his back. _'I had a slight lapse, and was soon asleep on the floor. No, I did not fall.'_ Eragon smiled, relief was over him, having cut the beast off mid sentence. _'I have yet, however, to take my bath.'_

_Eragon, you'll miss your meal._

_'That's fine with me.'_ He slipped from his sleeping trousers and folded them, setting them on the table as well. _'I have no appetite at all.'_

Slinging a towel from a hook near the table over his shoulder, he walked over to the edge of the sand-bottom hot-spring bath and looked down. He laid the towel over one of the many rocks which, in his descending into the luke-warm water, he found real. _'Were then any who wished to enter the bathing pool?'_

_'None but a young man.'_

Eragon closed his eyes, slipping father down until his head was all that was breaking the surface, his arms tossed around two rocks to keep him up. The Rider sighed, feeling his aching muscles relax, and crossed his ankles. _'A young man?'_ He looked up at the waterfall, only briefly wondering from where the water fell, exactly. _'Someone other than I has an odd bathing schedule?'_ He gained silence in that aspect before he sighed. _'No, I suppose not. Did he tell you what he was here for before running off screaming and/or on fire?'_

_He said he was needing to tell you something, from the council, that is._ She paused in her thoughts, and he thought he hear her nails click against the door as if drumming fingers on a desk. _And he wasn't on /fire/ when he ran of..._

Eragon laughed, and then let it sink in. _'Why did you not let him enter?'_ He paused, waiting.

_I had been calling you, Eragon, for nearly forty minutes. I got no reply, and thus I was nervous. I would not let any enter, and would watch people as they passed by._

He sighed, dipping his head below the surface, then brought himself back up. _'Alright then. Thank you, Saphira.'_

Resting his head back on the rock, he looked up at the arched, marble mosaic ceiling of the bathing room. It was gorgeous. He then, out of curiosity, turned to look at the door. _'Did he tell you his name?'_

_Yes._ She paused. _Erron_.

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	3. Meeting

**GOOD LORD! Over 150 views in less than 24 hours. o-O; Well, you know what? NO REIVIEWS! What's up with that, huh? D; Please, please, PLEASE review. It makes my non-existant soul ache when you don't. -- **

**This one is a shorty chapter, I'm so sorry. I've updated SIX TIMES today and I'm started to run out of big words. -brain melts- I might write more in a while. Maybe in a few hours, or while I wait for replies on Gaia to my roleplay...anyway, sorry it's short.  
**

**I don't own Eragon. Mleh.**

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Saphira's claws clicked as they walked. Eragon wasn't sure where they were going, since they had turned the opposite way from their room, but he didn't mind at all. His time in the bath had cleared his mind and aloud him to regain composure.

"A message from the council..." He glanced up at his friend who nodded.

Indeed. I was actually suprised he knew I could understand him. He looked doe eyed, very frightened. I suppose he's seen other speak to me.

"Well, many do anymore."

You return their favor for me, and for that I am greatful.

"We're both grateful to each other, Saphira." They turned down another corridor and found themselves at a dead end.

Wait a moment, Little one. Saphira took a step ahead of him. Eragon heard a soft whimper and inclined his head to look around her leg. It's the boy. Erron, who came to see you.

"Really?" He looked closer seeing a boy about his age backed into a corner. He looked positively horrified. He smiled. "It's okay, Saphira." She took a step back, allow Eragon to step around her. He adjusted the towel around his neck he hadn't bothered to remove. He didn't really want the collar of his tunic wet. "'Lo, Erron."

"You...You know my na– I mean." He looked even more horrified and bowed. "Sh-shadeslayer."

"Ahaha, hi." Eragon smiled, watching the boy look up with relief. "Saphira spoke of your name. It is Erron, correct?"

"Indeed, Sir." Eragon laughed again.

Sir. That's still so new.

You'll get used to it.

"Well, she also spoke that you were able to speak long enough to her before running off that you had a message for me?" He smiled, watching a faint blush cross Erron's cheek. Something struck in Eragon that he ignored. He wasn't sure what it was anyway; probably fatigue.

"O-oh yeah." Erron rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the ground. "They asked me to report back about your training here. They also wished to tell me that they have decided to come to check the progress. They are bring Nasuada with them." Eragon took his turn with a horrified scowl.

They are what?!

Perhaps they need your assistance soon than they'd hoped.

Who will run the Varden while Nasuada is here is Ellesmira?!

I'm sure she can run easily from here.

Eragon coughed before he continued. "Will they be hear long, boy."

"No sir." He shrugged, looking back up. He tossed his head so the dark blond locks cleared his foggy blue eyes. "I don't think so. They didn't say." He frowned, and bowed again. "I'm sorry, I'm late for something. Goodbye." He hurried past Saphira and was gone with a shot.

Eragon stared at the wall and felt that weird pang again. He shrugged it off and turned. "I think I'm tired. Lets head back to the room, Saphira."

I agree.

They turned, walking back the way they came.

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	4. Breathless

Whoot. Chapter Four.

**REVIEW!** I am in LOVE with this chapter. Now, I know my Eragon is a bit Angsty. Any of you read the beginning of Eldest? That is kind of where this is. See, while I read this, I got to thinking. 'Holy Bugger, this would be a tough life.' He and I are about the same age in the books, so, I was lie 'I'd kill myself if this were happening to me.' And then with the whole 'my back is killing me when I think it wont' type of thing, I could feel my cogs turning. Perhaps, maybe, the pain was Eragon's way of thought.(Remember, I'm setting this off the beginning of Eldest. BEGINNING!) Maybe it was tied to sadness, anger or loss. And, if you'd lost everything known to you, your best friend, your cousin, your uncle, your mother, your Hero, everything...would you have such unsteady thoughts? I would. And then, mixed with emotion from a teenage life, having all this dumped on him...and thus is my depression-struck Eragon. I mean come on, wouldn't you be upset? Again, I'm trying to keep him and Saphira in character as much as I can. But, I've added my own little twist.

Please review in this chapter. Please. I love this chapter SO much...I hope you do too.

D/C: I don't know Eragon. I do own Erron, though.

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Eragon laid in his room, eyes half closed and tracing the ceiling's curve. He wasn't sure what was keeping him awake. Something was, this he knew, but what this 'something' was he couldn't place exactly, though he had an idea. Since his collapse in the bathing hall, he noticed something.

He and Saphira are always together. He knew this was an obvious statement, he knew had thrown this around in his head for hours now. Always, always together, never apart except when they had a horrid quarrel and he'd always return that next morning, both relieved to be together again. He knew he loved her very much, and that she him. But...he knew he needed someone else in his life. He guessed this feeling was loneliness. Yes, he knew his time with Saphira was good; she was a smart creature and knew how to comfort him. But, he couldn't embrace her and be embraced back. She was his best friend, and the only thing that was constant in his life anymore. This he was grateful but, he wanted someone to love him.

Or at least, that was his take on this situation.

He turned, letting one arm become a headrest and the other hang over the side of his bed, just watching Saphira sleep. She was completely motionless except for the steady ride and fall of her rib cage and every once in a while a wing would flutter. Her silence and calm was comforting. She was indeed someone he needed more than breath itself, but he needed someone else. Someone he and Saphira could both love. And this task would be very, very confusing.

Eragon let his smile fade from his face and turned back onto his back, now both arms crossed under his head. Saphira was very persistent when he showed signs of liking someone.

_**It's not the right person, Little One. I have a feeling.**_

Always, always this. So, who was the right person? Perhaps it was Arya...but he didn't like her in that way. Maybe he was destined to be alone, never to trust himself, or anyone besides Saphira, completely?

His back flamed.

"Augh!" He groaned, turning and slipping off the bed, gasping as the floor made contact with his chest. His air was gone and his back was feeling like it was being sliced in half with that devil of a sword again. Through his gasping and grimaces, he saw Saphira's head lift and her lip arch in a low growl.

_Little one!_

"Ah." He was breathless as he scrambled at his back. He didn't want to be alone, but he was alone in this pain. Even Saphira who was intimately tied to him only felt discomfort. Arya and Angela were baffled in this, saying he was healed of all but a scar. He was alone.

Another searing shot. He choked on his air, slamming his eyes shut and staring into the darkness as his body became limp. This was bad, worse than before. He couldn't stop thinking he was alone. Alone, alone, alone. Alone in everything. His pain, his burden, his family. Oh. His family. His family was gone, his mother left him, his only father figure was killed, Brom was gone, Arya was cold, Roran was history to him, Murtaugh was gone and Ajihad too. He couldn't save them! He was useless! It was all his fault.

Another shot.

He could barely hear Saphira nearly screaming in his head over his own yelling. The pain was horrid, breathtaking, and heartstopping.

_Eragon! Eragon stop thinking! You're only making it worse!_

He let out something between and choke and a sob, shutting his eyes as tight as he could, feeling warm tears streaming down his cheeks. He tried to void his mind of thoughts, but couldn't. If he didn't he'd be alone in his mind. "AH!"

His hands fell slowly, and he recoiled, hugging his knees with little force. Damn the Shade. Damn him to hell. He was bringing pain to people from the grave through him, their 'last hope'! Eragon felt his blood boil, and another searing shot. He hugged himself tighter, telling himself he had Saphira, he wasn't alone. He could feel himself falling in and out of consciousness. Things would be bright and vibrant, then black, and went through this cycle faster and faster. Saphira's calls in his head became quiet and shy. He could feel the pain, but it was dulled somehow. He'd found a limbo between awake and sleep, a numbness that felt wonderful. It felt wonderful because he couldn't feel. And then...

"SHADESLAYER!"

Blackness.

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Again, God I love this chapter. I do so hope you did too. Please, please review. I would so love you for it. Thank you.


	5. Comfort and Conversation

Ugh. Sorry it took so long. Anyway, here ya' go. Chapter five.../what/ ca i say about /this/ chapter...I guess maybe that I was kind of lazy?

Well, I know I haven't been updating. So, I thought, 'hey, I have free time...why not?' So I've started up again. Whoop. I actually tried to /edit/ this one. I know, shocker. Anyway, I tried.I hope you enjoy it. Eh, like the fourth chapter in 'Ungrateful Glow', It irks me. I don't know why. It seems like such a random chapter, but this is a vital time...it's kind of a 'what's this? What's this? There's magic in the air! What's this? What's This!?' type thing for Eragon...kinda like Jack from Nightmare before Christmas...He's kinda wondering 'wtf..?'

Anyway. I don't own Eragon. I do own Erron.

Oh. OWNED!

...Go read.

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Once more, Eragon stared at the ceiling, pondering his work as the Rider. How would more come? How could they help them? Where will he find them, and how will he get the eggs to them? He didn't even know whom they would pick. It was by pure /chance/ he and Saphira came together. Pure.Chance.

This time, his back only ached. It was bearable, but still uncomfortable.

He'd blacked out, so he was told. Nights ago. Three nights long he was out, he only woke up this evening and he was once more thinking. In these times of confusion, he could not find a time when he was not.

He'd woken up to the boy, Erron. With Eragon in a coma of sorts, Saphira was weakened, though fought to keep others from entering except Erron, who never left the room except for food and bathing, Arya, who would try and wake him with spells, and this would not work, and the medic, who could find nothing wrong with the boy, and could not find a reason for his passing out.

Erron was questioned none stop for the past two days, and they found him innocent of foul play, letting him alone. Saphire, apparently, found the boy steadfast, taking messages f Eragon's health to those who needed it.

He also recorded.

Apparently, Eragon had spoken in his unconsciousness. He only spoke short, small sentences or singled words, but they were all down, thanks to Erron. But, Eragon found no reason why the boy would stay with him. He knew the boy was the first to find him, and the last voice Eragon had heard before he was gone. Erron had also told him about the book when he woke up. It wasn't long, only three pages, but Eragon found no desire to read it. He promised the boy he would read it later. But, Erron persisted he'd stay the night, in case Eragon changed his mind…or his health.

In fact, the boy was still here. He had fallen asleep in a chair he'd kept by Eragon's bed, making sure the Rider would not falter in his sleep. His head lay on his hands, and he was lazily slumped over onto Eragon's bed, though Eragon had always been closed to the wall. He watched the young man sleep, calm, no worry or fear like there had been when Eragon first met the messenger. His face was covered by his sandy hair, and he shivered now and then, though Eragon had tossed his blanket over him since he never seemed to need it.

In an odd way, watching the boy sleep made Eragon relax a bit. The feeling of loneliness had weakened in it's fight against him since the report by Saphira that Erron had never left his side. The only time Eragon ever felt horrible, lonely, sad, was when he heared that /voice/. That single sentence full or worry, sadness and horror. A name shouted in a short voice, a scream that seemed to echo in Eragon's head.

He felt his back come back into an uncomfortable state.

The boy eased his pain a bit, when he thought about him. It hurt him to think he'd worried the small messenger so badly, but made him warmer slightly knowing someone had been there, besides Saphira. Someone cared so much, was so worried about him that they never /left/. And /that/ made Eragon feel special. He could have done without the fighting and the praise and the new names and honor he'd been given, but…this was so simple. It reminded him of his uncle, Garrow, helping Eragon through colds and hard times; of Roran helping him when he was frustrated with his failed attempts at swords. The simple fact that someone /cared/ about Eragon, not /worshiped/ him…that made Eragon feel very, very calm.

His uncomfort was gone. It was completely gone. How was it gone? It always seemed to bother him. It had been replaced with pleasure…a warm feeling. But, how?

His eyes wondered to the journal Erron had taken in the past three days. The boy had never hinted at what it was Eragon had said, but was passionate that he should read it. Now Eragon found the desire.

/Pain.

I'm so, so sorry, uncle.

Brom…

Roran…

Water…

Falling water…

Saphira…

The pain. Stop the pain.

Someone listen to me.

Please, someone listen to me.

Stay with me, hear me…understand…

Stop.

Falling water, the falling water.

I couldn't save him. I failed him.

Murtagh…tunic.

Can you hear me?

Thank you.

I did.

She can't hear me.

Of course she does.

I've tried./

They all sounded like random things until he'd gone to the second page. Then it sounded like a one-sided conversation. The question was, was Eragon listening to someone in his head…or…

His eyes glanced at Erron again. Had Erron begun to talk to Eragon? He'd heard sometimes people return from a coma-like state when people talk. But, Erron wasn't familiar, like the tale so told. He looked down at the book. He knew Eragon and Saphira could not sleep and speak in the same time, so he excluded that idea. He had never listen to a voice in his head, and he held no recollection of any dreams. He looked back at Erron, his brows knitting together before he looked back at the book.

Notations.

/'He would go silent, I'd mumble to myself, and he'd ask me what I'd said. I would become excited, thinking he'd awakened. He'd never do so, but he would /talk./'/

So, he had been talking to Erron. What had Erron asked for these answers? Why hadn't he noted them? He doubted they'd be personal because Erron knew nothing of him. Eragon looked back at the previous. Perhaps they were about his ramblings….

/No, I have not.

I have.

Often.

Really?

What about?

'He laughed slightly and rolled over.'/

Eragon turned the page. It only held three lines.

/Alone.

I would like to.

Falling Water./


	6. Have a Seat

Yay, Another chapter. I wrote this JUST for Octoberwings. JUST to piss her off. XP Yes, she loves Ungrateful Glow. And Yes, she wanted me to update while we were in school. BUT I'M NOT! HA! Anyway, onto my normal ranting.

I rather liked last chapter. I've given up with italics for their thinking…so yeah. Tilted lines mean they're thinking and/or reading. ….Yeah. Anyway, enjoy. Nope. Don't own Eragon. I own Erron though.

ERAGON'LL OWN HIM SOON! AHAH! RANDI MADE A JOKE!

….

Read. WHY do you even read my rants? Read. Now. GOD START READING!

-gigglesnort-

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Falling water. Falling water, he'd thought that up before. He'd said it two, three times in the writing. Falling water…like in the bathhouse? True, he'd felt calm there. What about ;I'd like to'. Like to what? Eragon was so engulfed in his thoughts, he didn't notice the other body crawl up onto the bed before sandy hair brushed his shoulder. He jolted, tossing the book and thus hitting the poor boy in the head.

"Goodness, man, what /are/ you doing?" Eragon sat nearly in the wall, staring at Erron. Erron ran a hand over his face, and with the other closed the journal.

"Sorry. I was wondering what you were reading." He shrugged, scooting over to sit very far on the edge. He'd been already close to it. He was actually quite far away from Eragon to begin with. How did he feel Erron's hair? "You were mumbling about falling water. You'd said that a lot. I wasn't sure what you meant," Erron offered, flipping through a few pages. He looked a lot calmer than their last meeting, sounding a bit more mature now, smarter. "I asked a few questions, and got a few vague answers. Sometimes they weren't even answers to the question. The last one made me wonder, so I let well enough alone. Then you said 'falling water' again."

"Last one?" Eragon eased off the wall, looking confused. "What last one? The question?"

"Yes, Shadeslayer." Erron looked fidgety again, poking at the corner of the book. "It was one of those off topic answers. I would have brushed it off like before, since you were unconscious, but it made me wonder…" He re-crossed his ankles, opening the book so its spine was cradled with his knees, flipping to the last page.

"How?" Eragon was curious now, placing his hands behind his head and turning to sit against the wall. He tucked his legs into a criss cross position as not to lay them over the other boy strewn across his bed. "What was it you asked of me?"

"I asked you about lady Ayra. She and you, Shadeslayer, seem to be very close. I asked you if you felt for her. I'm very sorry," He mumbled. He flushed lightly, fiddling with the edge of the book again. Eragon blinked.

"Why would you ask that," he mused, tilting his head. He wasn't upset with the boy. However, he was curious with the odd question asked of him in his state of mind at the moment.

"Because my friends said me too." Erron mumbled again, turning through the blank pages. "They thought it would be a lovely match, and wanted to know. So, thus I questioned 'Do you have feelings toward Lady Ayra, Sir Slayer?' and you replied 'I'd like to'. I did not understand, thus leaving it be." His light blue eyes blinked a few times before looking up pleadingly. "Please excuse my rudeness."

He looked adorable. So confused, hopeful he would not be scolded…

Adorable? Handsome. Young. Naïve…he was so kind but timid. Eragon felt strangely drawn to the boy.

"…Shadeslaye—"

"You're alright. Don't fret over you inquiry. Erron, correct? Don't bother yourself with worry." He smiled lightly. His back had yet to ache all evening after laying eyes on the young man. "Might I ask something of you?"

"Of course!" Erron yelped, then smiled sheepishly. "I mean, yes, you my."

Eragon smiled, laughing lightly. "Yes, sorry. I was wondering your age. If you've told me, I have forgotten."

"Oh." Erron laughed lightly also. Eragon smiled softly, so sweet. "I'm fifteen."

"Fifteen, really? Two years younger than myself." He smiled and Erron seemed to relax.

"My, a Rider so young with such power…" Erron paused, looking franticly back at Eragon. "I'm very sorry! I didn't mea—"

"Goodness, you are very lively after waking so recently." Eragon laughed, and Saphira lifted her head, yawning wide. They looked at each other and Erron sunk slightly towards Eragon, watching her carefully.

/I believe he still finds fear of you./

/He is smart for his age./

/He's kind enough. A bit over reactive, but kind./

/You like this boy a lot, Eragon./ Saphira raised a brow, looking lightly at Erron who preceded to 'yipe' and shrink away a bit more. /Because I feel myself enjoying him as well./

/You enjoy my friends, Saphira. As do they enjoy you./ Eragon looked thoughtfully at her as she inched towards the bed. He blinked and looked down, Erron practically in his lap. /Don't scare him on purpose, Saphira,/ Eragon scolded, looking up at her. She slowly met her gaze.

/Hm./ She snorted lightly, returning to lie near the wall, eyeing them. /Indeed./

"…I feel she dislikes me," Erron mumbled, having curled into a small ball and hugging himself, his back against Eragon's knees. "She looked at me like I was of food."

"You are in a way."

"What?" Erron sat up onto his knees a bit to quickly, swaying, but looking at Eragon with wild eyes.

"Calm down, Erron. I was merely poking fun," Eragon smiled, laughing. "She would lay no claw on you. I swear."

"Mmm…" Erron shrunk a bit farther away, watching Saphira, and slipped, landing neatly in Eragon's lap.

Awkward.

"S-sorry…" Erron attempted to pull himself away before blinking, being pulled back by an arm around his waist. "Sh-shadeslayer?" He turned slightly, pausing when he came face to face with he whom he sat on.

"Sh." Eragon smiled, watching the boy blush. So sweet. "I want to thank you for waiting for me to wake up."


	7. Surges

So I know I've left this on a weird cliffhanger. Sorry.

D:

But I'll do better with it. I'm slowly starting to update again, seems I have more time. I'm so sorry. D:

--W—

Erron's reaction made Eragon laugh. He felt horrible about it, yes, but he had to laugh.

"I-I'm, uhp, um, ShadeSlayer, I um…Sir?" He squirmed a bit, but Eragon held him around the waist, laughing into the young man's shoulder.

Saphira was watching in obvious amusement.

/I do think you've frightened the boy more than myself, though I do not believe that was you intention of first round./

/Of course it was,/ Eragon looked at her, eyes hard. /Saphira, should I ask what you're accusing me of?/

/Must you ask?/ She made a small mock bow with her head, Eragon completely ignoring the fidgeting and rambling Erron in his lap. /I am a part of you, Eragon./ Her eyes met his before she curled into a sleeping position. /That is all I shall say to this./

Absent mindedly Eragon drummed on Erron's knees, leaning thoughtfully against his back.

"You know, Erron," The boy stiffened and Eragon once again had to stifle a small laugh. "I would never hurt you."

"O-of course, Sir Slayer."

"Is it Saphira you fear, or myself?"

Eragon managed to get Erron to relax and even look at him. The boy's voice had pulled out into an almost hurt tone. "Sir I don't think I could ever fear you. You are the Slayer, Sir Eragon the last of the Dragon Riders. You're an icon, an idol. I could never fear a good man. Respect him, of course I could."

Eragon smiled and sifted his hand through Erron's hair.

Erron's eyes flickered a moment, some sort of flash of something Eragon was trying to decipher, despite the interesting pang that surged through him as well.

Erron seemed to want to say something, but quickly turned and stared at the door.

"Eragon, the counsel…" Arya pushed the door open and paused, watching Erron scramble off Eragon's lap and over to the side of the bed to stand, head down, hands behind his back. The respecting pose of a messenger boy.

"Erron?"

"I'm sorry, Miss. I'll be departing now. Goodbye, Sir Slayer."

Eragon made a protesting noise and reached out, but Erron was lithe and quick, out the door in seconds. Eragon's head still swam a bit, but he managed his balance and looked up at the now curios Arya.

"Yes, Arya? The counsel?"

"May I ask what it was that he was doing?"

"Excuse me?" Eragon was suddenly defensive and Saphira was turned, staring down Arya carefully.

"…Perhaps later then. I'm glad you're awake. The counsel had a meeting."

"But you knew I was awake."

"I'm sorry?"

"You knew," Eragon motioned at the door. "You didn't pause to see if I had woken, you just walked in and simply began to inform me of something I don't recall. You knew."

"I had a feeling. Anyway," She waved a hand and stepped in a bit more, shutting the door. "The counsel they want to meet with you."

Saphira coughed, or as close to one as a dragon could muster, Eragon guessed. Now he was even more curious.

"You had a feeling I had woken up, told the counsel and now they want a meeting, Arya. Excuse me if I may but when exactly was I suppose to wake up?"

She simply looked at him a short moment, then turned to leave. "Three days time, Eragon, and the meeting will be."

When the door shut, Saphira turned to her rider.

/Little one. Why do you fidget?/

/I'm a little confused, Saphira. As to what happened./

/In which instance, Eragon?/

/What do you mean?/

/The conversation with Arya, or your current problem?/

She had crawled over closer, nuzzling him out of bed and toward a mirror in his room.

/That surge you had. Look at yourself./

When he did, he was even more confused. He could feel his heart racing, pounding blood hard and fast through his body like fire, it flushed his face to a light rose, made h is fingers hot, his thighs ached a little.

He remembered this feeling from years ago, an accident he had as a boy. One his uncle laughed at, but had turned slightly pale. This was far worse. Things hurt. His body hurt. Not in a bad way, in a good way, like a bed of flames engulfed him, heating his body from foot to nose.

He slowly ran his hands down his sides, resting them on his hips and bowing his head. He stared at the floor, glanced and closed his eyes.

"I believe, Saphira," He said aloud more to himself, though addressing another, "That a bath is in order."

She loomed over him, and he could feel here curiosity.

/What do you mean?/

He sighed, squeezing his hip lightly, flexing his other hand. "I need some time to myself."


	8. Lessons

1Again, and update.

This is for my friend, October Wings. :3

Love her.

Because without her, and my Editor, Bella…yeah.

You'd have no story.

D;

Not really, I love you all. But October prodded me.

Which I felt good about cause I have a good story I guess.

D

And you'll notice…my writing style is a little different So, yeah.

:3

On to the story.

--w—

He stood, head down a bit, Saphira still full of curiosity.

/Eragon, what is wrong?/

"Later, Saphira." He turned and started back to his bed, pulling on some pants and digging for his longest tunic. Saphira followed him around the room as best she could.

"Later, Saphira. But first," He turned, wrapping the towel about his waist. "I need to walk just behind your legs."

She blinked at him and raised her head. /Excuse me?/

"Your front leg, I'd like to walk behind it." It came quick to his mind, though he knew she wouldn't buy it. "I've grown tired of walking ahead."

/Of course, Eragon./

It took them shorter than usual to reach the stone showers. Within minutes, Eragon was inside and alone again, stripping his clothing as quickly as possible. In his state of mind, the clothing was only hurting the situation with it's rubbing while he walked.

Once free of his clothing, he managed into the pool without opening his eyes, sinking down and feeling the water flow over every inch of his body, warm and sweet. Incence burned from somewhere on the table near the door, but he let his head slip under and the smell was gone.

The world looked so different from beneath the waves. He could hear the water beating water from the falls, and the lag in his movements seemed angelic. He wanted to laugh.

His body was still hot, hotter than before in fact. The heat of the water all over his form, it drove him to insanity. Or close to, he thought.

He pushed his head from the water, letting the water drip out of his hair and over his face, eyes staring through the droplets and he ran his hands gently up and down his inner thigh.

/Saphira?/

/Yes, Eragon?/

/Please go back to the room. I promise not to be to long./

/I will wait here. It is, I suppose, a paranoia of mine, Eragon./

/Then would it be to much to ask if you kept from my thoughts for a while?/

/I will silence myself, little one./

He took comfort to that, and sighed to himself. Slowly, he started to feel the fingers brush over his thighs, more and more vivid. He could feel his heart racing and managed to pull his hands away. He flexed his hands, then wrapped them on the edge of the stone he was sitting on, head leaning back on the stone behind him and legs fully extended to the point of nearly hyper extending them.

He hurt. And he wanted. And that's why, when he opened his eyes, he saw the right person, at the right time.

Erron, however, would seem to have been at the wrong place in the wrong time.

Eragon's eyes opened slowly to scope over the pale, tiny form of Erron. He looked up, his mind growing ever the bit more foggy.

Erron looked curious at Eragon, making obvious yet understandable reason to stare right. In. His. Eyes.

Not for any real reason but the fact Eragon was bare from head to toe and completely spread out.

Erron, mild enough in his sense, was still wrapped at least in a towel. His voice came out a bit choked.

"Oh goodness, I feared you'd fallen asleep, sir."

"I haven't, Erron." Eragon's voice was not as string as he attempted it to be, but gave up, motioning vague with a flick of his hand. "Did I disturb your bath?"

"Of course not, sir. I had just come in when you arrived." Erron shifted uncomfortable, eyes slipping down Eragon's chest only a moment before rushing to look up at his face. Eragon smiled, chuckling lightly. He motioned for Erron to sit and then closed his knees together, then crossed them. Erron paused, then followed the command.

"I was just about to leave, sir, and–"

"Eragon."

"Hm?"

"Call me Eragon, Erron." he turned, smiling carefully at the boy. He blinked at him, then smiled back.

"Eragon."

"Thank you, I don't think someone your age should be called Sir anyway."

"I know."

"Hm?"

"I mean, you told me. Or, well, something close to it..." Erron twirled his thumbs. "When you were asleep. You didn't like something about the regal touch of being a Rider. You told me that before I thought about writing in the journal."

"I see," Eragon sighed again, closing his eyes and laying his head back. His fingers brushed the water making ripples. "Forgive my lethargic nature, I seem to have gotten myself into a problematic state."

Again, Erron's eyes stared trailing down Eragon's body, stopped and snapped back up. "What do you mean?"

"What do I, Erron, I can not say you are a dense boy." Lulling his head to the side to look at Erron, Eragon smiled. "Few come to mind who I belive would have written my words from my sleep in a journal, let alone try and speak to me."

"I still don't understand, sir, er, Eragon."

Eragon laughed. He could feel Erron's gaze slip again, but the eyes met his when he turned back.

"If you are this dense, what am I going to do with you?"

"Sir I reall–" He went quiet as his hand was grasped hard, but carefully around the wrist. Eragon didn't change the way he looked.

"Eragon, please. And Erron, must I explain it to you? Are you still so vague to the world that is your body you've yet to experience it, or perhaps you just don't understand it yet."

Erron looked strangely at Eragon, down at his hand, then down into his lap.

"I saw it in your eye earlier, Erron. That sudden brush of lightning that ignites your blood like oil and your nerves fray to feel the dust in the air. You've lost that since in the time from now to then though, haven't you."

"I'm sorry, Si–Eragon. I still don't understand what you're talking about."

In that moment, that Erron's eyes meet his, some storm drove through his mind. A mixture of anger, sympathy and not understanding.

"Do you not take lessons, Erron?" The storm raged, and neither boy took his eyes from the other, as if in a ring fight, or a staring contest.

"No, Sir," Spiteful, "I have not. I lost my parents at a young age." He twisted his hand, but Eragon's training let his grip hold.

"I apologize, I never knew mine."

"I am sorry."

"You don't know what your body does to well, do you."

"I do just fine, Sir." And, to Eragon's surprise, Erron moved on him, instead of visa versa. He came closer, straddling across Eragon's knees like a chair, running his free hand to rest in the middle of Eragon's chest. "I commit services for others, sir. I read their books while waiting on a parcel, or look at paintings in the hall." He seemed interested in his hand, watching it carefully. "I have done my lessons myself."

Eragon felt his breath fade a little, his eyes clouded a little more and he couldn't help but look down at the hand as well. "Really now," came the whisper. He felt his grip loosen and Erron retrieved his other hand.

"Indeed, Sir Slayer."

"Eragon."

"...Eragon."

Both of Erron's hands rested on either side of his rib cage, trailing the finger tips gently and cupping to fit themselves on Eragon's hips.

Eragon's eyes had fallen closed, there were of little use anyway.

"It would seem, sir, that you have little understand of your body."

"It would seem," Eragon mumbled, taking a long, deep breath. His breath caught in his throat when Erron pressed his thumbs into the hollow of his hips, rotating them slowly.

"I do understand your problem, Sir."

"Please," Eragon hissed. "Eragon."

His breath came in rushed intakes, Erron slipping his fingers carefully over his hips, down the hallow and resting them on the highest point on his thigh. Eragon shivered, looking up in just enough time to close his eyes again and bite his tongue.

He felt soft fingers against the base of his shaft, trailing up and tracing the head like feathers. He let out a sharp breath when the fingers went away, and another touch came, the feeling of damp, warm skin against his chest. His senses were on edge, and he felt Erron lean against him.

"_Eragon."_

"Auh," Eragon lifted up onto his elbows to press himself against Erron, the contact sending surges of energy through every nerve. More shocks came when soft lips pressed themselves against the hollow of his chest, and his name came again.

Eragon uncrossed his knees, opening his legs enough to move Erron down towards his waist. But that wasn't near enough. Despite the scratches on his back he lowed a bit more into the water, moving to grab and Erron's hips. He pulled, pressing his hips against Erron's so hair the tips of their hips touched. Eragon moaned against the pressure, biting down on what ended up being Erron's shoulder.

A short realization later brought the fact Eragon was not the only one with a servier need this evening.

Erron pressed himself harder against him, and Eragon's mind went wild. He pulled his teeth across Erron's shoulder and down to the center of his chest. Erron was now sitting up, head hung back and hands digging into Eragon's shoulders while Eragon used his hands and mouth to turn pale flesh into scratches, red surface.

"Oh Lord, Eragon." He felt his member twitch, and pressed his hips firmer against Erron's.

"Say my name again, Erron."

"_Eragon_."


	9. Laughter

"Again." Eragon grunted softly, leaning his head to suck briefly on one of the young man's nipples. Erron jolted, making quite an arousing sound and in said motion pressed their members together. Eragon groaned. Erron breathed his name. "Like that, yes…" Eragon shifted slightly, more comfortable with Erron now straddling his thighs, and used the rock ledge as leverage. He sucked again at the nub, twisting his hips up roughly against Erron's body. Pure pleasure rolled through him like horses running.

"Oooh, heavens." Erron flexed his fingers on Eragon's shoulders. Nails bit his skin. Eragon grinned, for some reason, and licked and niped gently at the perking nub. He slowly trailed a hand up the other side of his body, fingers taking hold of the forgotten nipple and tweaking it.

Erron made a strange sort of sob. Eragon quite liked that, and offered him another rotation of his hips. What he didn't expect was for Erron to rock with him, and the hand still resting on his hip gripped hard. Then Erron made an extremely painful sound. He jolted, violently, away from him and fell backwards into the water. Eragon remained completely still, still in his postion with his hand up, staring.

/Saphira--/

/It's the scar./ Her voice was a distant echo. His fingers trembled. He felt suddenly very cold. Erron broke the water's surface, eyes pained. Eragon reached forward, pulling him to the ledge. Around him, he saw the water turning red. "Erron--""Ah…" Erron's eyes fluttered. Eragons tood, panic setting in, pain searing up his spine. He grimaced, violent, and somehow managed to bend enough to pull Erron halfheartedly out of the water, enough to explain his torso. What he saw made his blood run fridged as 's hip was mangled. Four perfect holes where his fingers had been, and torn skin. Erron writhed, pained, and Eragon stood horrified to the spot./Little one…/ Her voice was stronger now. /Little one, can you hear me?//Leave me,/ Eragon went to touch the poor boy, but he recoiled back. /Find Arya. Quickly./

/Little one, you kn--/

/Go!/ He looked at the doors, saying the word aloud and in his head. He heard a great weight shift outside the doors, then looked back. He covered his mouth, then jumped and pulled it fingers."…Ah…" He stepped back, and away from Erron, who looked frantic. "Sir Slayer I--""Ah!" Eragon hurled himself from the water, shameless of his exposure as he ran from the bath hall. His tears flowed freely as he ran, cold, wet, frightened, towards a safe haven, towards his room. He shook his head. The pain shot through his spine renewed with every step. "Stop!" He could hear it then. Quite, in the back of his head, a soft laughter…dark laughter…His own, dark, laughter.

----

Long time no update, nyah? XD

Remember, this story isn't necessarily following the Eragon /books/. So.


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